


on hope

by Ashling



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Book: The Last Battle (Narnia), Hurt/Comfort, Week of Ficlets, Week of Ficlets: Unforgotten 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling
Summary: With only a small, ragged group of Narnian fighters left, Tirian ponders strategy.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	on hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unforgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/gifts).



The good thing about the Western Waste was that not even the most ambitious Calormene general enjoyed spending time there. It was as if the place had a hostile personality of its own, which was very useful when you wanted to keep people out as badly as the Narnians did. The bad thing was that they had to live there. And it seemed to make people’s tempers flare quite easily. Maybe Jill was romanticizing the old days, but she felt pretty sure that if they had been in Cair Paravel, discussing a potential raid, no Centaur, no matter how young or stupid, would have been willing to growl, “Patience, my tail. If you can’t score any victories, then what is the point of you?” to King Tirian.

If Emeth had been there, he would have likely challenged the centaur to a duel, but he had led the reconnaissance party that gathered information for the raid, and so had gone to sleep in the king's tent hours long ago.

The king himself took it very matter-of-factly. “Come now, Windtail,” he said, “you’re talking as if Aslan has abandoned us.”

“Perhaps he has,” said the centaur.

“Lovely,” said Eustace, as disgustedly as if he’d found a wasteland spider in his porridge (which he had, earlier that day). “We don’t need you rubbishing Aslan on top of everything else.” 

“Why?” said Windtail defiantly. “What’s he going to do to me that hasn’t already been done?”

Tirian didn’t move a muscle, but Jill caught the downward flick of his eyes, the tightening at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, don’t,” put in Jill. “We know about this sort of thing from the Kings and Queens of old. Remember the Telmarines? Remember the Witch? He always comes back.”

“What’s the difference to me?” demanded Windtail. “Do you think to a Talking Deer born in the middle of winter and dying in the middle of winter, with more than thirty years of winter on either side, it mattered whether Aslan was coming back or not? Winter lasted all the same.”

Jill had thought she was above being touched by this strain of despair, but it caught her off guard all the same. “Of course it mattered,” she said hotly. “Your Talking Deer probably kept on because she knew her fawns had something to look forward to. Having an end makes all the difference, even if we’re not the ones who reach it.” It sounded awful to say out loud. Theoretically noble, but practically speaking, it was spiders in porridge all the way down. 

“While you lot wait around on Aslan, I say we act on what military intelligence we do have left,” said Windtail. “And if we don’t take advantage of this news, it’s pure cowardice. I never saw such an opportunity for a raid, and it’s been ages since the last! How long are you going to wait?”

Tirian did not look up.

Jill shot a pleading look to Eustace, who said at once, rather crushingly, “Finish your soup before it goes cold, will you?” He really was unparalleled at sucking all the drama out of the air, like an off-key tuba.

For a moment, it seemed that the centaur might make more of a scene, but food was scarce and perhaps he sensed that further antagonizing Jill and Eustace would be detrimental to his health. Without another word, he took his bowl and trotted off, tail twitching in irritation as he went.

_ Thank you,  _ Jill telegraphed to Eustace, and got back,  _ Your turn now,  _ with a significant look at Tirian. 

_ Oh, wonderful, the easy job, _ she thought grimly. She took her time in finishing her soup, and then went over to sit next to the king, cross-legged. Tirian looked over at her, and to Jill’s surprise, his blue eyes were mild. Which made it harder to talk strategy.

“If even one-third of you are killed or captured, there won’t be enough to get ready for winter,” she said. “And if we aren’t ready for winter, we’ll lose some of the older Narnians, maybe some of the young ones too. That’s even if they don’t muster any more incursions into the Waste. And it is worse, isn’t it—” Here Jill grew rather tentative; although she’d become quite the archer in her own right, and although she knew the Narnians saw her as a Daughter of Eve, she still mostly felt as though any day now she would wake up to Gertrude Simmons shaking her and saying there was a spider on the wall and could Jill kill it please? When Jill felt like that, which incidentally got worse when she was tired, talking about strategy grew difficult and talking about honor was even worse. “—to lose them that way. The dishonor of avoiding a battle can’t be worse than the dishonor of letting your own suffer because some windbag is preoccupied with how many raids we’ve made this month.” 

“You’re right, of course,” Tirian said. “I saw that at the beginning. But it’s not pride, maiden. If we could have captured even a portion of their arms, it would mean more than steel on our side. It would have given them some hope. And they need it.”

_ If, _ Jill didn’t say. It would be cruel, and she already had won. “I know it wouldn’t be only pride, if you chose to do it,” she said instead. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, and shot a look at Eustace. 

Eustace cleared his throat to buy himself time, but couldn’t think of anything clever. He ended up speaking rather gruffly. Jill knew he was only speaking like that because he felt as badly as she did on Tirian’s account. They were neither of them graceful with emotions.

“You’re a good king,” he said.

“I’m trying,” Tirian said to the fire, quietly. 

“We know,” said Jill, and Tirian put his hand over hers. 

“Do you think He knows?” he said, after a while.

_ I don’t know,  _ Jill’s eyes said to Eustace, and  _ I don’t know,  _ his said back.

“Yes,” she said. 


End file.
